Nobody's Fault But Mine
by Kronoskingofthemonkeypeople
Summary: What's this? Yet another Post 47 Seconds Fic? - Castle and Beckett succumb to the consequences of their silence. They have both made mistakes, but will they realise it before it's too late? Set in speculative "The Limey" episode.


**Nobody's Fault But Mine – Chapter I**

The quiet apartment hallway filled with the sound of harsh giggling.

"Richard Castle, you cad!" Ringlets of peroxide blonde hair swished over shiny white teeth and thick red lips as the woman poked out her sharp hip flirtatiously.

"Who me?" He popped up his eyebrows playfully in mock puppy dog style while surreptitiously winding his arm around the woman's waist, a move straight out of the old play book. "You mean a man can no longer invite a woman up to see his etchings?"

The giggling woman's eyes dulled in confusion. "I thought you were a writer?"

Castle shrugged off the missed innuendo. "I dabble."

The woman saw her entrance and grabbed him by the lapel, pulling him toward her. "Like in crime?" She said saucily.

He could feel a sting start to rise in his chest, but with the light veil of alcohol covering his thoughts, he quickly swallowed it down with a cheeky smile. "And in other things." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys to dangle before the woman's eyes. "Care to find out?"

"Yes please!" She smiled deviously, and then knocking his hand out of the way, went in open mouthed for a kiss.

The taste of stale gin burnt in his mouth as a rising feeling of panic and confusion came over him. This wasn't right. The woman pulled him closer to her, overwhelming him with the floral scent of her hair. This was wrong.

"No." Castle found his voice calling out his he quickly pulled away.

"Hmm?" The woman asked dreamily, still intoxicated by his kiss.

He lightly held her by her arms and pushed her away. "I'm sorry, I can't… do this."

_Why?_

"Oh come on Ricky…" She lowered her eyes playfully.

_Because of her?_

"I just…" Castle swallowed, trying desperately to figure out the thoughts swarming in his head. "I have to go. Sorry."

As fast as he could he thrust his key into the lock and fled into his apartment, closing the door on the confused, and soon to be very angry woman.

This couldn't be happening. Not now. She didn't love him. That's it – they're done. So why can't he even kiss another woman without it feeling so… so…. wrong?

It had been a week since he found out that she remembered, that she had been keeping him on a line all this time, giving hints that she'd be ready for _them_ eventually (well, what he thought were hints), when in reality she was just embarrassed that he loved her when she didn't. What was he to Beckett? Just some zany, crime-fighting sidekick? Some lap dog she liked to have following her around? All this time she knew how he felt… _She knew…_

Castle collapsed on the couch and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Why was this so hard? He had tried to let her go, to show her he didn't care anymore. All this week he had restrained himself from giving her coffee, bit his tongue when she began theory building, sat on a different chair pulled to the other side of her desk, left her alone promptly at the end of the day. He was letting her go, just as he needed to, just as she would want him to.

So why did the memory of Kate's confused face haunt his mind so persistently?

Why did it seem hurt?

Castle shot up from the coach and began to pace up and down the lounge room, hoping to settle the rage and confusion burning up inside him. He was trying his hardest to get over her, but still she was the first thing he thought about when the other woman kissed him. And no matter how hard he tried to nonchalantly shrug off the blatant flirting of that new blonde British cop with Beckett, he could still feel the bile rise in his throat when they smiled at each other. So that's the kind of man she wanted.

Not him.

Castle felt he has about to burst when he stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes, bringing in a long, chocking sigh as he held his head in his hands.

No. That's it. He's got to get over her.

_Love is not a switch, you just can't turn it off._

His mother's words taunted him as they ran through his mind like a sharp pain he was trying to ignore.

But then suddenly, it clicked.

Castle shrugged, utterly defeated. He looked over to his open office door then padded into its dark abyss, on the forbidden path he had come to know so well. With a heavy hand he reached to the top of the screen and press the small power button. The screen let out a quiet beep then sprang into life, lighting up the room dark with its cold glow. Castle slowly moved his eyes down to meet the picture he knew would be waiting on the screen.

Her.

Always her.

He thought they would have a future together, but now it was gone forever. But still… he couldn't let her go.

He still went to the precinct to see her, he still kept Mr Smith a secret to protect her; he still loved her.

His hand slowly moved down before the screen as he gently touched the cheek of Kate's picture, springing the web of leads to life.

He slunk back into the chair and stared at the screen. He knew he had to let her go, for her own sake, but that didn't mean he would stop protecting her.

She may never love him, but right now, in this moment, he knew she was his one and done.

He was a lost cause.

* * *

><p><strong>NB What's this you say? You're sick of every single Caskett fan spewing out another god damn post "47 Seconds" fic?**

**Well tough nuts, deal with it!**

**Yeah, I'm a hard mo-fo fanfic writer! You mess with me, you get your arse thrown into OOC hell! Booyeah. **

**Ok, apologies for strange outburst, who knows what the hell is going on in my mind. No thanks to Andrew W. Marlowe!**

**Actually, the guy's restored my faith in him this past two episodes, I just hate him a bit for not giving us the rest of the season tomorrow, and then adding another 40 episodes immediately on top. **

**So this was my little outburst in my impatience to wait for "The Limey". I was thinking it's a bit of a twin piece (hence the title), so if you guys like it get ready for the next chapter in Beckett's point of view. Can anyone say "Girls night chat/debrief, copious-wine-drinking, secret-spilling, grrl-imma-smack-you fun night"? Cause I can! Yeah, I got me some mad elocutional skillz. **

**But to tell me how sick you are of this post fics or if you want to see some Beckett deconstruction action, please REVIEW! Reviews are like rain to my barren wasteland of a brain. So bring life!**


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